


His Majesty's Servant

by teyla



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-04
Updated: 2008-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-02 18:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teyla/pseuds/teyla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt from the Merlin Anonymous Kink Meme: <i>Arthur is royalty, why should he have to jerk himself off? He gets his willing manservant Merlin to do it for him instead.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	His Majesty's Servant

"I swear, if you could you'd get someone else to jerk you off as well!"

The moment the words are out of his mouth, Merlin bites his lip, wishing he could take them back. He's never been very good at this submissive servant thing--after many slip-ups, some unintentional, some not, Arthur has even given up on trying to make Merlin address him as 'his majesty'--but there's a difference between getting Arthur's title wrong and treating him like Merlin would treat one of his mates back in Ealdor. Salacious comments like this are probably the kind of thing that gets clueless young sorcerers beheaded just as much as performing a spell in the courtyard in broad daylight would. His only excuse is that Arthur has been a right pest since he came back from that hunt, and Merlin's fed up with being sent for only so he can put out the candle that his majesty Crown Prince of Camelot Arthur Pendragon is too lazy to get up for and put out himself.

Arthur, however, who's reclining in his bed in a way so pompous and irritating that it _has_ to be intentional, doesn't look furious, or even offended. If anything, the look he's giving Merlin across the room seems--inspired? Yes, inspired would be the right word.

_Oh, bollocks._

"Merlin," he says, and yes, there's far too much amusement and smugness in that tone for Merlin to have any doubt about what Arthur's next demand is going to be. "Merlin, Merlin, Merlin. Thank you for reminding me why exactly I keep you around. You just come up with the _best_ ideas."

Okay. His Royal Highness has decided to play the Royal Highness card. Time to play the submissive servant card, as much as it makes Merlin want to claw at his eyes. "I'm very sorry, Arthur," he says, lowering his gaze in what he hopes to be a very submissive servant manner. "That was completely out of line. I'll be more than happy to accept any punishment you might see fit, and to fulfil any more orders you might have for me."

Arthur waves his hand in what seems to be a gracious gesture, but to Merlin is a mere mockery thereof. "Who's thinking of punishment, Merlin? I'd never punish you for constructive suggestions, I support the idea of servants keeping _some_ mind of their own. I do, however, have another order for you." Arthur flicks back the covers and reveals a pair of long, naked, muscled legs and linen undergarments that sit rather loose, but still do nothing to conceal the bulge at his crotch. He pulls up one leg--and he does it slowly, much too slowly. Merlin can see the muscles working under the skin, and he does his best to ignore the twitch of his cock against the rough material of his trousers. (Undergarments are a royal privilege and not for a servant like him, even if he's the manservant of Camelot's Crown Prat. Er, Prince.)

Arthur is smiling a lewd smile. "Or not as much of an order than a request. A royal request of the Crown Prince for his most loyal servant."

Oh, Merlin can tell that Arthur has been _waiting_ for an opportunity like this. The only physical interaction they've had so far is Merlin helping Arthur into his chainmail, but even during those sessions, Merlin was able to tell easily that Arthur has a taste not only for the ladies. It's not like he himself is innocent of having given this subject any thought--he's given it some thought, some thought indeed, and also quite a few private sessions in his chamber with a handful of one of Gaius' not-quite-as-rank-smelling salves. But this--Merlin's not sure if he's into doing it this way. He's really not very good at the whole submissive servant thing.

"Arthur," he starts, then has to stop talking when Arthur, his eyes deliberately fixed on Merlin, slides a hand over his hipbone and crotch to gently stroke down the inside of his thigh. Merlin can see the fine, blond hair and the way Arthur's thigh muscles twitch under his own, long fingers.

He swallows. To hell with pride. His prince has made a request, and he would be a bad servant not to fulfil it to the best of his abilities.

Merlin puts aside the silver goblet he's been polishing and walks over to the bed. He's about to get down to business--and he'll have to watch himself; his own cock is a lot more than just twitching by now, and he hasn't washed his other pair of trousers yet--when he remembers something. A quick look around he room, and he locates a small bowl sitting on a chest across the room. He knows what's in it, he's brought it up here himself. It's a salve of some sort, meant to treat bruises and muscle aches. Merlin doesn't know what exactly it does, but he knows that it makes for a very interesting tingling sensation when brought into contact with bare skin. He smirks and quickly fetches the bowl; then returns to the bed.

Arthur has been following his every move, and when he realizes what Merlin is holding in his hands, his smile turns almost admiring. "Merlin, Merlin, Merlin," he says again. "I didn't think you'd have it in you."

No matter what his brain has been telling him about not being into these kinds of games, Merlin's cock pulsates with pleasure at the praise. He smiles. "Anything for my prince."

Finally, he climbs onto the bed and proceeds to straddle Arthur's out-stretched legs. Arthur reaches down to pull away his undergarments--there's a small moist spot of pre-come staining them already, and who's going to be the one cleaning those pants, Merlin thinks with a touch of resignation--but Merlin puts his palm over Arthur's hand. "Just relax," he says, and smiles again. "Let me tend to you, my precious Royal Highness."

Arthur does stop, and Merlin can tell that his precious Royal Highness, for one, has no doubts about whether or not he enjoys these kinds of games. Merlin hasn't even touched him yet, but Arthur's breathing is going harder already, and a pink tongue flicks out to moisten dry lips. Prince Arthur is getting off on lording over willing servants. Well, thinking about it, that should not have been new information.

Merlin picks up the bowl with the salve and scopes up a generous amount. He spreads it over his hands and palms, deliberately slowly, his eyes never leaving Arthur's face. Arthur is watching Merlin's fingers, and there's the tongue again, not licking this time, just the tip peeking out between full lips. Merlin feels more heat rushing towards his groin, and less for the sake of Arthur than for his own, he decides to stop teasing. He reaches down to push up Arthur's loose undershirt, the skin of his palms, slick and sensitized from the salve, slide smoothly over firm stomach muscles. Arthur draws in a breath, and his head falls back against the headrest of the bed. "Oh yes. That's it, Merlin," he says, his voice not entirely steady.

Merlin smirks, and without much further ado slips his hands downward and into Arthur's undergarments, easily pushing the loose fabric out of the way. Arthur's cock is hard and lying firmly against his stomach, the head red and glistening with pre-come. It's Merlin's turn to bring some moisture to his lips, and he quickly wraps the fingers of his right hand around the shaft.

Arthur makes a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan, and boy, his Royal Highness is really enjoying this. Merlin's smile broadens into a grin as he begins to move his hand, slowly at first but speeding up quickly, his fingers tightening and loosening rhythmically, every stroke eliciting a shiver and another one of those wet, low sounds from Arthur. They really should have done this ages ago. Merlin can feel Arthur's hips twitching upwards in small, unconscious thrusts, and he notices his fingers curling and fisting the bedding.

At the sight of the usually oh-so-superior Prince Arthur being reduced to a shivering, moaning bundle of pleasure underneath him, Merlin is the one who utters a noise that sounds suspiciously like a lust-filled grunt even to his own ears. He shifts his balance a little, and without stopping the movements of his right hand, he uses his left to quickly undo the strings of his trousers and slips his fingers underneath the fabric.

Merlin underestimated the effect of the salve. The touch of his own hand on his cock is so much more _there_, so much more intense than usual, and the sound he makes this time is definitely more than a grunt. The fingers of both his hands tighten, and Arthur bucks his hips, almost throwing Merlin off balance, and spills a considerable amount of pre-come over Merlin's knuckles. At the pants and the grunts from Arthur, Merlin feels the knot at the base of his spine tighten, and he decides that if he's to leave this to its natural progression, it's going to take far too long. He concentrates for a moment, both his hands pumping in a simultaneous rhythm, and then sends out an impulse the effect of which he's been enjoying since the age of thirteen, when he figured out that combining jerking off with magic made for some intense moments of pleasure not easily forgotten.

Arthur cries out this time, a proper cry of pleasure, and both Merlin's hands are suddenly soaked in warm wetness as the magic does its trick. Merlin gasps and holds his breath, growing completely still as his climax runs through him, stimulating every part of his body down to his teeth and the tips of his fingers. It's over much too quickly, as always, and when the tension abates, he moves away from Arthur, flopping down next to him on the bed. His breath is rushing in and out of his lungs, while Arthur's harsh panting seems almost amplified in the post-coital clarity of sensations.

"Wow," Arthur finally says, sounding, in fact and to Merlin's pleasure, pretty damn impressed. "Wow. It's always the quiet ones, eh? We need to do this again really soon."

"I wouldn't be opposed to that," Merlin says, sounding not quite as composed as he would like to. "Not right now, though. First, I've got some trousers to clean."


End file.
